Will he be okay, they ask, will he?
“He’s found his way to God,”
but I don’t believe in God,
I don’t care for His existence.
“Strengthen your faith,” I say,
“Seek Him in your time of need.”
And they do, and they pray,
and I clasp my hands in pretend.
“Look at what the pastor is saying,”
I say and they look,
but I don’t hear the ramblings of the holy man.
Yet, I swear and I tell them, “Listen.”
But they cry,
and they doubt,
and they ask me, how will he fare
“He’s up in Heaven,
embraced by the angels,
in the arms of Mother Mary,
on the lap of Jesus Christ.”
So, oh questionable Lord,
forgive me now,
for I am a sinner
and a liar.